


bad decisions

by zukofenty



Series: Drug Dealer Zuko [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Day 4, DrugDealer!Zuko, F/M, Zutara Month, Zutara Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukofenty/pseuds/zukofenty
Summary: The one where Katara (might) be in love with the campus drug dealer.“So why won’t you go out with me? Is it because I’m a drug dealer?” Zuko’s mad, twisting the rings on his fingers while impatiently waiting on her answer.“Not exactly,” Katara quips, averting her eyes from his fiery gaze. “It’s mainly because you don’t tip when we go out to eat.”
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Drug Dealer Zuko [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711738
Comments: 9
Kudos: 96
Collections: Zutara Month 2020





	bad decisions

**Author's Note:**

> hi i love u guys more than i love drugdealer!zuko. Just kidding!!!!!! I love him more!!! Sike!

“Zuko’s _dead?_ ” Katara nearly screams into the phone. She pulls on one of his hoodies and is scrambling to find her slides and keys. 

Toph sighs. “We all knew this would happen. The sky’s blue, Beyonce needs to stop forcing her boyfriend on us. Basic facts. _Get it together_ , Katara.” 

“Toph, how does your disdain for Jay-Z make it into every conversation you have?” Suki wearily states. “All we know is that a dealer got shot near the frats today. So in conclusion, Zuko’s dead.” 

“Donezo.” 

“Bitch is _gone_.” 

“God bless his beautiful ass.” 

“A moment of silence for his fake Chanel blouses.” 

Katara does her breathing exercises. “ _Enough_ .” She hears a knock at the door, and immediately grabs her expandable baton. “Oh my _god_ , someone’s at the door.” She whips out the baton to its full length. 

Toph gasps. “Bitch, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. Are we getting a two for one deal tonight?” 

Suki cheers. “I call dibs on her Fenty highlighters.” 

“Oh _hell fucking no_! You do not have the range for Trophy Wife, whore!” Toph shouts right into the microphone. Katara winces, and takes out an Airpod. She’s heaving, nervous at who could be at the door. Toph and Suki were trying to negotiate with each other on who was getting Katara’s brand new Hydrating Foundation when she takes an experimental glance out the peephole. Her gasp reverberates through the phone. 

“She’s died, Suki! She’s died!” Toph wails, her screams nearly unintelligible. 

“ _Zuko?_ ” Katara screeches at the top of her lungs, launching herself at him so violently her other Airpod pops out. 

He chuckles when she locks her legs around his waist, his arms coming out to support her from underneath her ass. It’s domestic, and he relishes in the attention. “Hello to you, too.” She’s smiling at him and it’s beautiful and soft and everything he wanted to see after the shitty night he’s had. Dealing in college was an easy route to Balenciaga and bitches. Everyone did it, it was as easy as catching HPV at your school. Yet, Zhao, the Kingpin of dealers, just _had_ to get his side-chick pregnant and then just _had_ to get shot by his girlfriend. Even if he did get shot up because he was a slut (#FreeZhao), the campus dean had called the cops and was in the process of launching an extensive campaign to fuck up any current dealers. Even if you possess the slightest hint of addy for your ADHD, you still had to haul your ass to the campus police station. It wasn’t fair though. Coke is what makes college campuses around the world run as smoothly as they do. 

“You promised me you’d stop,” she’s murmuring in his ear, curled up beside him in her cramped twin bed. Her roommates went back home for the weekend, so it makes it just that much easier to pretend you two could be like this. Lost in the sheets, hopelessly in love with her head on his chest. 

“If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get you this,” Zuko whispers in her hair. He slides a ring on her finger and she smiles lazily back at him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. God, is this what love feels like? If she accidentally got pregnant with Zuko’s spawn she wouldn’t immediately reach for Plan B? The ring was a simple thing, just plain silver because she wanted one to be “edgy,” obsessed with rings after playing with the handful that adorn Zuko’s fingers. After making sure she was sound asleep, he lets himself smile. _Finally_ , he’s getting somewhere with her. 

Seemingly a too perfect, impenetrable forest, he’s finding himself finally being let into her world. As corny and lovesick it sounded, Zuko understood how easy it was to love someone when he laid eyes on you. All those damn John Green books were right, he begrudgingly admits ( _Eat shit_ John Green.) She truly could not do one wrong thing in his eyes, her soft giggles as she attempted to explain commas and semicolons and gerunds or whatever the _fuck_ he doesn’t quite remember because he was busy being infatuated and trying to make her laugh. They’d met freshman year, and have remained in this weird limbo ever since. Where he would call her to remind her to eat when she was stressed, and he could plant kisses in her hair when he’s showing up to her apartment at night, cuddling her without her pulling away because it always felt right. At the same time, Katara felt so unattainable, so out of reach. It’s never progressed past simple, flirtatious touches. Yet, being with her feels different than any other relationship he’s been in, as though his heart was permanently and solely hers. 

It was easy to fall in love. Katara was so kind, yet so dead set in her ways. Never detracting her focus from school, she had no time for anything else in her life. Her older brother Sokka had raised her when their parents had disappeared shortly after producing the “accident” child. They handed Katara off to him, who hadn’t spoken to them in years. While Sokka was in college and attempting to care for Katara at the same time, he had struck gold with recording labels interested in his music producing work. Soon, he was making songs you could regularly hear on the radio and not just on Soundcloud, and the royalties were ensuring Katara got the best. The best schools, clothes, life. Even if her brother was obsessed with flexing his regular Bugatti purchases on Instagram, she wasn’t nearly as preoccupied. She was always in oversized hoodies that once upon a time ago belonged to Sokka before he decided on dressing like a 30 year old hypebeast Instagrammer still trying to hold onto their youth. Always volunteering her time and doing things rich people had time to do to make themselves feel good about their tax breaks. 

It made Zuko feel jealous in a sense, with his uncle struggling to make ends meet his whole life. He ran a small fried chicken and tea shop (Iroh was convinced about this combo) in his neighborhood, and he hated to admit that he was ashamed. That he dreamed of shoving Chanel anything up his ass. He would take the perfume sample cards from the mall that said _Givenchy_ , pinning it to his wall as inspiration for what he would buy in the future. It didn’t make sense to him, when Katara had all this money and couldn’t care less. She penny pinched when she didn’t need to, wore clothes from Forever 21, as though Sokka wouldn’t drop thousands for the Fendi boots she always talked about. 

“Damnit, you’re dick sick, aren’t you?” Toph sends her a look that screamed _pity_ . Katara tried to fix the frown, but her eyes always revealed everything. So she nods in agreement, and Toph wraps her up in her arms. Zuko had invited her and Toph to a quote unquote “exclusive party” thrown by the rich kids whose parents owned the university. The Olivia Jades of the world. _Schmoney shmoney_. It didn’t help that she felt so out of place, circling all throughout the frat house before settling on the cleanest couch near the one window that wasn’t broken. She wanted to be a part of Zuko’s world for a night, see where he was disappearing to on the weekends. 

Although Toph spent the better part of the evening prepping her hoe fit, Katara stuck to an uneventful long t shirt (Zuko’s shirt, of course) paired with thigh high boots. She had planned on only staying half an hour, tops. She didn’t drink, smoke, it just wasn’t her thing. Her worst fear was contracting herpes from a wax pen. Even when she was a college freshman and people were busy coming back upchucking all over the communal dorm bathroom, she instead dutifully held hair back, and changed drunk girls’ clothes. She quickly learned the tricks of the trade after cleaning up Sokka’s messy weekend self during his quarter life crisis phase. Admittedly, she was _boring_. So, she reasoned 30 minutes gave her enough time to walk around the place and see Zuko schmoozing with rich kids, and then leave to have enough time to do her skincare before bed. 

“More like sick. He deals coke now! Coke! That’s a prison drug, ma’am. The real deal,” she whimpers into her tits. She had caught Zuko in one of the trust fund babies’ enormous rooms in the frat house, daddy’s credit cards and student IDs out and about with lines of something she’d only seen in movies. Since all the dealers were on the low with the campus crackdown, and since it was midterms season, the demand amongst the student population was unbelievably high. Zuko was the only brave ~~stupid~~ enough to keep selling. Katara had burst into the room to alert Zuko that Toph and her were about to make a dramatic exit without him to go back to her place and watch _John Tucker Must Die_ instead of studying. 

She had expected a lot of things, hell even coke (maybe). What she didn’t anticipate was seeing a girl in Zuko’s lap, kissing up his neck, wearing practically nothing. He had an assertive hand on her thigh, massaging it, manhandling her like Katara wished he would do with her. He’s talking and acting like he belonged with the assholes of your school. Like he wasn’t the gentle guy who Katara always saw in sweats always talking about his half sister, or memories of his uncle’s restaurant. She had made eye contact with him and promptly shut the door, feeling as though her heart would burst any second now. 

So Toph and Katara go back to her place, calling up Suki who Ubers over, ready to rag on her (sort of) mans. Both Toph and her were in Suki’s t shirts that she “gave” to the duo. Both girls ignore her protests when she shows up and demands for them back. “Hey, that is premium Aliexpress Yeezus Tour shirts! They don’t sell fakes like these anymore!” 

Katara was eating Target generic brand ice cream out the container, her heartbreak palpable, especially to Toph. The two girls were best friends after becoming roommates freshman year. Katara’s a sweet thing, too sweet in Toph’s opinion. Always remembering little things, people’s birthdays or favorite brand of instant Udon packages. She was always the one defending Toph against those who found it too easy to take advantage of her. Toph, in turn, was always there to mend her big heart after no one remembered her birthday freshman year. In many ways, Katara won a permanent place in Toph’s heart. She was always the one showing up to her dance performances, even if they were a two hour bus ride away. Always making sure to take off her makeup after recitals when she was too tired to move. It hurt her to see Katara like this, in pain. 

“All I’m saying is that he uses you to play house. It’s time to cut the cord. Don’t be Beyonce, don’t keep letting a man bring down your worth. Plus, you don’t have the range to come out with _Lemonade_ in the middle of all this heartbreak and betrayal.” 

She scoops Vanilla bean into her mouth, eyes downcast. “What do you mean? Just because he comes here and sleeps over all the time?” She settles her head in Toph’s lap when she sees Suki begin to straighten her back, prepping for the rant she was about to deliver. 

“Katara, sweet, pure, virginal Katara.” 

“Hey!” Katara yelps. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, and it’s going to hurt. Like pap smear at the gyno hurt.” Katara nods, interest piqued. “Do you see you on his Instagram? Do you? Any posts, any tagging done when I know you took this photo of this overpriced matcha soy latte?” Suki tries her hardest not to break her tough girl role when she sees hersad fucking eyes. Why are they built like that? Like she could break her heart with just a watery glance? “Tell me, who do you see on Zuko’s Instagram and Snapchat?” 

“Hotgirls,” she jumbles the words in her haste. 

“Louder!” Suki shouts. 

“ _Hot. Girls._ ” she admitted defeat. Toph strokes her hair gently to try to comfort her. 

“That’s the thing with guys like Zuko, ok? They want the hottest girls on campus to suck and fuck, but they’re even more cruel with girls like you. Girls who are meant for dating to marry and cute gender reveal parties and pastels and shit. He knows that you guys aren’t meant to be together, the universe says so. But he’ll still play with your feelings because he likes pretending he deserves you. Pretending that in this world, girls like you and guys like him can be together and make it work.” 

Katara’s jolting her head out of Toph’s lap in protest. “Well, what if I want to be a slut? What if I want to be the kind of girl that Zuko wants?” She was tired of being the cute girl who looks like she goes to volunteer at the community center regularly and is destined for some picket fence with a balding, accountant husband and loud, undisciplined kids. She wanted sex, hell she wanted to wear skimpy clothes without worrying what Zuko was going to think about how her tits looked, or if her pants showed enough of her ass to be considered hoe. Katara wanted the confidence of those girls Zuko would put on his social media, she wanted to be them. Being with Zuko felt like being with someone who _got_ her, and she liked, hell _loved_ the attention he gave her. As though she felt pretty, and not adorable. He was someone she just couldn’t get out of her head, someone that was so dangerous to her because she was feeling herself change for him. Is it wrong that she liked it? The way he called her gorgeous when he comes over, or how he lazily grinds against her ass when he’s half-asleep, hands on her hips grounding her. 

Suki squeezes her chipmunk cheeks between her musty hands, and interrupts Katara’s protest about an acne breakout. “Even if you try changing everything about you to become exactly what he wants, do you really think he’s going to treat you the same when it isn’t on the down low?” 

Ouch. 

Suki’s honesty still stings, but it was the cold hard truth. She was willing to change herself, be someone for a guy promising her trips to Paris when he could never meet when the sun was up. Suki’s words hurt as bad as the dress Toph was squeezing you into. “You wanted slutty, I’m giving you waist trainer, Insta model slutty!” She had convinced Katara to go on a date with some guy who was “perfect” for her. Code for boring, she was sure of it. Probably an engineering major who didn’t know how Twitter worked. 

Even with all of Toph’s efforts, Katara decided all the shapewear in the world wasn’t going to contain her “post depression ice cream for all three meals” belly. So, she decided to keep it simple with her “knock-off Ariana” outfit as she calls it. Pairing just a pair of thigh high boots with a long sweatshirt.

“Look, I know you secretly get off to the thrill of dating a lame drug dealer, knowing the cops could bust down your door and cause a scene at your apartment. I know you live for the drama. But I promise, this guy will be good for you. Let’s just have fun for _one_ night. Please put the dress back on? I know you haven’t washed that hoodie in a week,” Toph pleads with Katara. 

She just rolled her eyes while Toph reapplied a layer of gloss to Katara’s lips. Deep down, she just knew in her heart there was no getting over Zuko. At least immediately. But, it didn’t hurt that Jet was cute, harmless fun. He was taking her out to a diner near her apartment, frequented by students at their college deluded by the aesthetic photo ops, and not too concerned about how the restaurant was serving up microwaved Mac n cheese. He showed up looking exactly like his Instagram photos and in a well ironed H&M button up. She could feel Toph hiding behind her futon, snapping clandestine photos for Suki, who was in the bathroom with the Taco Bell shits. 

“ _How dare you?!_ ” Jet screeches, dropping a cold fry in disbelief. “You’ve never watched anime?” 

“Ok, a scream was not what I was expecting. I just asked if _Teen Titans_ counted. Sue me.” Katara’s laughing, and hates to admit that it was fun being with Jet. He’s nerdy and sweet and most importantly so, so tall. A good guy. 

“It _doesn’t!_ ” he huffs petulantly. 

Katara juts out her lip. “How can you ever forgive me?” 

“Hmm. I guess a second date. Maybe an anime sesh will have to do. Your place, and we’re pulling an all nighter.” 

“Why not your place?” she questions. 

“I live in a living room, and I don’t have a mattress. But why not? My place it is!” His aggressive thumbs up makes her laugh so hard it sends her into a choking fit. 

“So, we’re watching _Teen Titans_ first, right?” she teases, pounding at her chest to stop the coughs.

His smile reaches his eyes. “You know, I was kinda scared going out with you tonight. No offense, but you have, like, no pictures on your social media. All Toph promised me was _‘you’re really pretty and heartbroken as well._ ’ And, not to try to win any brownie points on this date, but I have to agree, you’re really pretty.” Katara rolls her eyes, and he blushes. 

“I was expecting something along the lines of ‘ _Goddess_ like,’ but I guess ‘really pretty’ works, too.” She’s laughing along with his obnoxious giggles, and she feels almost lighthearted. Not quite ready to fall in love again, but considering the possibility. “Let me guess, she cheated on you?” 

“Worse. Walked in on her with...drumroll please!” Katara lightly began drumming her fingers on the dining table. “You guessed it! My brother!” he sheepishly admits, bringing out the jazz hands and everything to emphasize his point. 

She audibly gasps. “That’s some Kdrama shit right there! Please tell me you started a fist fight with him, kicked a nut or two.” 

“Nah, I had an essay due. No time for that shit, you know? I just shut the door, banged out my paper, and haven’t spoken to either of them in about four months.” 

She takes a sip of her milkshake. “That’s healthy!” Jet tilts his shake in Katara’s direction in agreement, before taking a long gulp from the cup. 

He quirks a perfectly shaped brow towards her. “So, let me guess. Your guy saved his side chick’s name as Chick-fil-a in his phone, you found out and tried to strangle him with his belt, and he pressed charges?” 

“Oddly specific, but sadly no. Let’s just say he had the biggest heart. Big enough for bitches on the side as well.” Jet makes a grunt in disapproval. “It wasn’t like I could be mad, anyways. We weren’t in anything official. But _it felt_ like it could’ve been something, you know?” 

It was like an unspoken agreement, an energy that the two felt when they met each other. A “my heart was just shattered into a billion pieces but hopefully a rebound will lessen the pain just for two hours tonight” kind of vibe. It felt good with Jet, like the two of you guys had known each other forever. He serves her with corny joke after joke, and she lets herself laugh. She hated being around men, and besides, Sokka threatened any that even made eye contact with her for longer than 20 seconds. Aside from Sokka, Zuko, and Aang, the kid she babysat, Katara was afraid to let any other men in her life. Three was already enough emotional labor. 

They both go out for boba afterwards, and Jet makes sure to pay for their drinks _and then_ drop his change into the tip jar. He knows that Katara swoons immediately. It always works. That’s why 30 minutes later, she’s slamming him into her futon. Soon after, he’s shirtless, pressing at her core with impatient fingers. She’s grinding helplessly in his lap, his moans egging her on. He insisted she keep the boots on. 

“I was not raised to leave my shoes on in the house. That’s just _vile_ ,” she protested. Jet silences her with a gentle kiss, and a press of his throbbing cock against her. 

“Please, baby. Make an exception for me tonight,” he whispers against her lips. Her shorts and underwear are suddenly missing. When the fuck did he do that? She’s dizzy and horny and _so full_ when he starts fingering her. His fingers so fucking long and is making her whimper and ready to have his kids. She closes her eyes because staring at Jet’s fucked out ones made her want to combust. She was focusing on the feeling of being stuffed while trying to tamp down on the fear of losing her virginity, because that seemed like the logical course of action with how the night was playing out. _Damnit, what if it hurts like a pap smear_? She thinks pathetically. In the middle of all her inner monologues, she’s suddenly shoved off of Jet’s warm body, tumbling on the ground. She opens her eyes to see Zuko pummeling Jet to a pulp. 

“Not the face, Zuko! Not the fucking face! He’s too pretty for this!” Katara yelps, shoving Zuko’s muscular frame off of Jet. Jet sends her a sad smile before slipping his shirt over his head and heading out the door. 

She’s fuming, too angry, too confused. “What the fuck was _that_?” She’s at maximum screech levels tonight, much to her neighbor’s dismay. 

“You tell me!” Zuko cards his hands through his hair. “You’re fucking some other guy? Don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Katara. But this,” he gestures between the two of them. “Did you forget about us? Forget about me? What the fuck?” 

“Hold up, Walter White.” She’s sticking a hand out in his face. “We are a situationship, at best. Don’t you dare accuse me of whoring around when we aren’t even official.” 

“I thought what we had, what we were...I don’t know? It’s different,” Zuko rubs at his neck awkwardly. “Did you not feel the same way? Why do you care about all these labels all of a sudden? Why didn’t you fucking _tell_ me you wanted us to make it official?”

“It’s because you’re supposed to know! You’re supposed to know that I hate what you do, that I hate loving you, because it hurts me.”

“So why won’t you go out with me? Is it because I’m a drug dealer?” Zuko’s mad, twisting the rings on his fingers while impatiently waiting on her answer. 

“Not exactly,” Katara quips, averting her eyes from his fiery gaze. “It’s mainly because you don’t tip when we go out to eat.” 

“Bullshit!” he howls. 

“You need to tip at least 20%!” 

“Katara.” He takes a deep breath in. “Why don’t we just make this official?”

She’s worrying at her lip. Trying desperately to remember the breathing exercises her therapist had recommended before she started crying and did something crazy like suck his dick because he looked hot when he was angry. “Zuko, as much as you’d like to keep pretending that _we_ could ever be a thing, I can’t. I can’t keep holding onto this fucking unrealistic dream. These unrealistic expectations! What do you want me to do? Pray for the day you get bored of dealing or hanging out with the rich kids or making out with sorority girls so you could come back to me at night? Because I’m fucking pathetic and let you back every single time?”

She sees him spluttering, trying to desperately hold onto a solid response that could sway her decision. “Katara, you know how much I care about you. But you would never get it! You would never get someone like me!” 

She scoffs. “Try me. What don’t I get about you, Zuko?” 

“That being with those people, and dealing makes me feel like more than just a poor kid with no parents and no fucking future.” Zuko huffs out the confession as though he was holding it in for a millenium. 

“I get it, ok I understand but-” 

Zuko steps back from her, as though she’s slapped him straight across the face. “No, Katara. You don’t. You don’t fucking get it. You get to cosplay as poor. Pretend that you have to budget when Sokka could easily handle everything if things go wrong.” 

Katara’s angry, angry at herself. For hurting Zuko with her careless words, for looking so fucking stupid. “Ok, fine. You’re right.” She surprises even herself at her confession. "I don’t get it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be fucking worried about you? That I’m terrified about what could go wrong? One wrong move and you could fucking die! You think the dean is going to let any of those rich assholes take the fall for anything? No, they’re going to blame it on the disposable kid on Financial Aid,” she wails at the top of her lungs. 

She searches his eyes for any understanding, for any reaction to what she was saying. His jaw is set in a determined look, the kind of look she knew was unwavering, was unable to be changed no matter what. She sucks in a breath of air, praying for any sort of strength. “How about you do you, and I do me?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Zuko squeezes out. He’s rushing out the door, slamming it on his way out. 

//

“I knew I could smell the cock on you! You rode that dick like a stolen car, didn’t you?” Suki bellows, cackling. 

“Please, I will fucking block you,” Katara wearily threatens, without any might behind it. She’s, predictably, in one of Zuko’s old t shirts from when he played soccer in high school, slapping on moisturizer before she could retire to bed. “Zuko stopped anything from happening when he came in and went 'New York after Hottie said she looked like Beyonce' on his ass. 

Toph grunts over the line. “So what’s the deal with you guys? He’s dealing you drugs _and_ dick now? You’re fucking the weed man for weed? Or are you fucking the dick man for dick? At least you’re not fucking the tweet man for tweets.” 

Katara pauses in patting in the cream on her face. “How does this make _any sense_ to you? Like do you not hear yourself speak?”

“It makes perfect sense to me, slut.” 

Suki jumps in before low blows could be dealt and the girls start making fun of each others foundation not matching. “You know what, I bet Zuko’s selling whole ass cilantro and/or oregano and no one says anything because he’s fine.” 

Katara pauses in applying her lip balm, a call from Zuko popping up threatening to end her call with her girls. “Zuko’s calling?” she questions. 

“This late?” Toph is in between bites of her pepperoni Hot Pocket. 

Suki sighs. “Listen, Katara. Girls don’t win when it comes to love, we never win. Maybe you should take a break from all this Zuko mess, and I don’t know. Pick up a hobby. Go back to therapy.” 

But Katara knew something was wrong. She could sense it, just feel it inside her. _Something_ was inherently wrong. As though the universe was whispering this to her, pleading with her to listen. “I’ll call you guys back, ok?” 

“This is the future Stephanie Meyer wanted. For girls to be pathetically in love with pale, emo guys,” Toph miserably whimpers after Katara leaves their call. 

Katara heart felt like it could fall out of her ass and then jump back in her mouth with how loudly it was beating. She’s running, clad in only the t shirt and her slides. They were threatening to slip off at any second from how fast her feet were forcing them to pound at the pavement. Word of the wise, don’t fucking run in slides. 

“Don’t fucking hurt him!” She screams, expandable baton whipped out and ready to pummel any bitch dumb enough to hurt Zuko while she’s around. A few guys were standing around Zuko’s limp body, about to lay another painful blow against his bruised visage when she starts wildly beating them with her baton. She’s shrieking at the top of her lungs, scaring them enough for all of them to disperse. They all ran off before they had to deal with whatever _the fuck_ Katara was doing. _Crazy_ wasn’t in their agenda that night, only beating up good looking dealers. 

“Oh, Zuko.” Katara immediately lets go of the weapon, dropping down to her knees to look at him. 

Turns out, everyone wants a shot at the king. 

She sits herself down and gently cradles Zuko’s head in between her hands before placing it in her lap. He closes his eyes and musters the strength to give her a small smile. 

“Thank you, Katara.” She’s trying her best to hold back her tears. The gravel is scraping unforgivably against her legs, the cold causing her throat to begin to itch. She’s shivering as she types in “911.” 

Zuko lifts a battered arm to swat quickly at her fingers. “Can we just Uber to the hospital? I don’t want to drop two racks on an ambulance.” 

“Zuko!” Katara squeals. It works, he’s got her to smile in spite of all the drama, all the tears. It’s so easy for them to be like this together. Just enjoying the moment, just being themselves. “You know, I’m sorry for ever saying you look like an angry snake. You still do, but I’m sorry.” 

“I hate you,” he says without any commitment to the spite. 

“You don’t.” 

“I know.” He lets her finish ordering the Uber before speaking again. “I love you.” 

She runs her fingers in his hair. “I know.” 

“Say it back, please?” He has the audacity to pout despite being beaten nearly half to death. 

“I’m scared,” she can’t bring herself to break eye contact with his intense gaze. 

“I know.” 

// 

“Zuko! What happened?” Iroh’s running as fast as he can, still clad in his sleepwear. He sees the pretty girl that the nurses warned has refused to leave the boy’s side for the past few hours, never letting go of his hand. She’s even had the gall to snap the nurses who would show up to their shift a few minutes late. 

He sees his nephew rub comforting circles in the girls’ hand with his thumb, looking at her before he could make eye contact with his uncle. Right when he’s about to say something, he’s interrupted. 

“He was protecting me. We were walking in a bad part of town because I really wanted to get ice cream, and...we got mugged.” She finishes lamely, whispering the last few words. “They hit him first and then were trying to steal my purse. They got even more mad when he started yelling ‘don’t hurt her!’ He jumped in front of me before they could do anything.”

The two share a look and a smile. Zuko’s grip on Katara’s hand grows impossibly tigther. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> anyways i love u guys so much !!!!! i love u!!!!! hope you enjoyed i had so much fun with this!!!


End file.
